The Taste of Control
by Little Miss Slytherclaw
Summary: Myrtle Warren's death was an accident, but it was just the opportunity Tom was looking for. All he needed to do was the unthinkable, and he would be able to control his own fate; he would become impossible to kill. Warnings: Cannibalism. Character death. Gore. Grossness.


**OKAY! This is a fic that I wrote at the request of my ex-fiance... ehem... my wife! Ari. I made it the best I could. Also. I did our classic thing and prompt hunted A LOT (they are all listed below). Nowhere near your previously challenged 50, but *shrug***

 **...**

 **This was written for** **Hogwarts (where I'm a Snek) Assignment #2 - Anatomy and Physiology Task #3: Write about someone trying to control something or someone**

 **Note: This entire fic is based off of Tom's desire to control Death. (I was told to mention that I have Amber's permission)**

 **...**

 **It's been a long day, y'all. Also. This fic has been a long time coming. I thought of it when listening to the metal band (yes. I listen to metal) Ice Nine Kills. They have a song called 'The Plot Sickens' from their album 'Every Trick in the Book' (which is a brilliant album, btw). This fic was inspired by this line (which is mentioned above): It all comes down to flesh and bone; it's hard to swallow the unthinkable.**

 **...**

 **Warnings: Cannibalism. Character death. Gore. Grossness. Is this really what I wrote as a gift to my new wife?**

 **Rating: Definitely M**

 **Summary: Myrtle Warren's death was an accident, but it was just the opportunity Tom was looking for. All he needed to do was the unthinkable, and he would be able to control his own fate; he would become impossible to kill.**

 **Word Count (excluding A/N): 1620**

* * *

 **The Taste of Control**

Killing Myrtle Warren was an accident. A happy one, albeit, but an accident nonetheless. She was dirty, unworthy of her power, and Tom couldn't help but find it fitting that she was the one here to become the one who died far too abruptly.

Go back to your dwelling, Tom demanded to the powerful beast behind him, the Parseltongue rolling off his tongue almost beautifully. He could feel her, the Basilisk, aching for blood and more death, but Tom had other ideas.

His first kill, however accidental, should be special, should it not?

The beast stirred. Master, is my time already over?

Go back, Tom repeated. I will release you again soon, my pet, and together we will rid this school of the weakest links.

He was lying—there was no way he could risk releasing his beast a day, or even a year, after this incident was discovered, however much he wanted to see each and every Mudblood removed from the wizarding world. Besides, he needed time with Myrtle, to truly appreciate this first kill, and Tom really didn't have a problem with lying.

The Basilisk didn't respond, only curled upon herself and pushed herself back through the pipes, the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets closing behind her. Tom was alone with Myrtle.

Well, Tom was alone with Myrtle's body.

He ought to make her death special, should he not?

Slowly, he walked over to her small form and knelt beside it, one knee pressed against her hip, the other against her ribcage. She looked so frail with her empty eyes open wide, remnants of tears gathering in a puddle at the concave between her nose and cheek.

With careful fingers reaching under her glasses, he wiped the tears away, a soft smile on his lips. "You… you will do splendidly, my dear."

"Get away from me!" Myrtle's shrill voice shouted out, startling Tom. He straightened up, his brown eyes hardening. Then he caught sight of an ice-blue wisp, and his confusion dissipated.

"You chose an endless, half-life," he stated softly, turning the upper part of his torso to face the ghost of the young girl, his eyes glinting. "No release for your soul? The world is cruel. Why do you wish to stay here?"

Myrtle turned her nose up at Tom, her arms crossing over her chest. "I wanted to know how I died." She was trying to look defiant, but he could see the way her fingers hooked around her foggy school uniform. She was scared—he could see it, and it was intoxicating.

Tom smiled. "How wonderful. I'll have an audience." He turned back to Myrtle's body and slowly pulled her robe off, handling her quite expertly.

"What… What are you doing?" Myrtle asked. Tom could feel her presence just behind him. When he deprived her of an answer, she spoke again, her voice shaky and timid. "You aren't—"

Tom cut her off. "Great Salazar no." He sounded amused—excited, even.

After her robe came her vest, then tie, his fingers curling elegantly around each piece of material he touched. No movement was rushed, nor was the corpse jerked in any way. Had she been alive, she would have felt no discomfort. It was almost like he was preparing a sacrifice to a god.

"However, I'm not done with you yet! I need your body to procure power." He gently waved a finger, wandlessly folding her removed clothes. "And power is everything, Warren."

Myrtle floated to the other side of her body, now only dressed in her underclothes, hiccoughing softly. "Y-you killed me," she whispered, raising her watery eyes to glare at Tom. "You ruined my life and now you're ruining my death too."

Tom smiled again before pulling a small black book out of his robes, holding it gently between his long fingers. Once again, he didn't respond to her, only sifted through the pages, his eyes glinting when he found the one he was looking for. He dragged his finger across neat penmanship, humming softly under his breath.

"I don't understand," Myrtle said, leaning over her own body, her voice as timid as ever. "The pages are blank. What… what are you doing?"

Tom didn't bother glancing up. Myrtle was a dead mudblood—she didn't need his full attention. "Of course they are to you. Do you honestly believe I would let my personal writing be accessed by anyone other than me?"

Myrtle didn't answer, only held her robes tighter in her hands. Tom could feel her hesitance and fear, but didn't pay her any mind as he softly murmured his spell: Ex carne et os ex facio cogitare de Immortalitate

She shivered, and he decided he wanted to push her further. "Have you ever heard of a Horcrux, Warren?" he asked softly, finally deigning to look up at her. When she shook her head in response, he smiled. "It is a dark object that contains a piece of a wizard's soul. It takes a great deal of magic to split the soul in order to make one."

Myrtle bit her lip, settling herself so she was kneeling on the opposite side of her body as Tom. "W-Why would someone want to split their soul?"

"Eternal life." Tom's smile widened, and his excitement grew into his shoulders. "He who can never be killed, who controls Death himself, is the most powerful of all."

Myrtle shuddered and sat back on her heels, her eyes casted down to her exposed, physical form. "What… does it take for someone to make a Horcrux?"

Tom's smile turned from something almost pleasant to something horribly sinister, his eyes darkening and his upper body leaning forward to get closer to Myrtle. "My dear Warren. It all comes down to flesh and bone," he hummed, finding a disturbed pleasure as the girl flinched.

She didn't understand, he could see that much in the knitting of her brow, so he set his book to the side and leaned forward. The easy part was over with, he had already casted his spell. The next part could be more challenging, but it would be much more fun.

"I wonder how hard you will be to swallow," he said as he picked up her left arm and lifted it to his lips. He heard her sharp intake of breath right as he sunk his teeth into the flesh of her forearm.

Fortunately, her body had not finished cooling yet—he much preferred a warm meal. Myrtle was freshly dead enough for her blood not to have pooled completely, and Tom found the taste to be intoxicating and nauseating all at once.

His eyes never left hers, and he saw the transition from confusion, to fear, to complete horror overtake her expressions. The tears that had been welling up since her decision to return a ghost finally spilled over, and she let out a guttural scream. Her ghost-like form recoiled, and she shrunk away from him, but her eyes never left his.

With a wave of his hand, Tom put up a silencing spell around the bathroom. He could still hear her—he craved her cries—but anyone out in the corridors could not.

Myrtle's muscles were stiff, making it difficult for him to tear into her like he needed to, but he was determined. He dug into the muscle tissue, for she had hardly any excess fat, his breaths coming out in heavier pants from the exertion it took. Nothing but Death could stop him, and soon not even Death would be able to.

Normally he ate with such precision and elegance that one would think he grew up in a Lord's house, but not today. Now he was ravenous and forceful, snarling if meat didn't tear from her bones quick enough. With each swallow, he was becoming closer to his goal.

"Stop it!" Myrtle cried, her voice shrill and desperate. "Riddle, p-please."

Slowly, Tom pulled his mouth away from her damaged arm. He wasn't finished, but this was his first proper victim. He wanted to enjoy it.

A stringy bit of muscle was stuck between his front two teeth, and blood dripped down his chin, but he still smiled; Myrtle was gasping for air, having finally covered her entire head with her arms, her form curled in on itself.

"You taste lovely," he said politely in juxtaposition to the now crazed look in his eye and the slight shake of his hands. Myrtle let out another shriek in response, refusing to look up at him, but he paid that no mind. "What do you think. May I have some more?"

She was screaming again, and Tom's smile widened with the same wild energy that was coursing through his body. He knew he needed to get on with the ritual soon, but he wanted to live in this moment for just a little while longer.

"Don't worry," he began again, his voice soft against her cries. "I'll remove this moment from your memory. As much as I would love for you to suffer eternally with the knowledge of your flesh falling prey to me, I can't have you repeating what has happened to anyone at all. Now, shall I continue?"

After letting out a slight laugh at her lack of response, he brought her left arm back up to his lips, resuming where he left off. He knew he had consumed enough flesh for the Horcrux to be made, but he had gone this far—what was a little further?

So he tore at, and dug up, and consumed as much muscle as he could, severing veins and, when he reached them, gnawed on bones. It was grotesque, and exquisite.

And he got to eat to the continued soundtrack of Myrtle's screams.

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 **A/N 2.0:**

 **Cheese Board: Crackers and Breads - Multigrain Crackers: endless**

 **Scavenger #69: Write a Riddle Era fic.**

 **January Pop Challenge: Loki**

 **\- Tesseract — (Dialogue) "Power is everything."**

 **\- Sceptre — (Plot point) Telling lies**

 **365 Hogwarts Challenge #49: Soul**

 **Winter Seasonal:**

 **\- Colors: Ice Blue**

 **\- Flowers: Hellebore - (theme) Death**

 **\- Element Challenge - Water Prompts: (word) Puddle**

 **\- Slytherin:**

 **-Character: Tom Riddle**

 **-Trait: Determined**

 **-Other: (ability) Parselmouth**

 **Writing Club:**

 **\- Disney Challenge - Dialogue 1: "The world is cruel."**

 **\- Showtime #10: Seventeen: (word) damaged**

 **\- Liza Loves #15: Write about someone upset/crying**

 **\- Angels Arcade Character #4 Harley Quinn: (dialogue) "I'm not done with you yet!"**

 **\- Film Festival: #15: (dialogue) "You ruined my life and now you're ruining my death too."**

 **Insane House Challenge #86: (Character) Tom Riddle**


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